


last

by kaaogami (ghoulnoace)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulnoace/pseuds/kaaogami
Summary: His bags are packed. But he's not quite ready to go.





	last

**Author's Note:**

> This one's extremely self-indulgent. Apologies in advance if it's not polished or deep or even good lol.

Taiga looks at his phone, his thumb hovering over the call button for the hundredth time that day. It’s easy — _should’ve_ been easy, to press that tiny button. He’d done it before, to call for a quick one-on-one on the court beside Maji or to ask whether the lazy bastard took home one of his shirts again.

He should just press it — it should've been so easy — say what he has to say, and get it over with. But every time he'd tried to, his eyes would glance at the name and then the picture beside it and he’d just. Freeze.

A minute passes like that, then two, then thirty. He sighs, and the phone rings loudly on his hand, startling him out of his daze. Aomine’s dumb, harried face flashes on the screen, the picture secretly taken by Momoi during one of Aomine’s so-called ‘Study Lessons from Hell.’ Momoi had then passed it to him just as secretly with a sly smile and a cheery _“No need to thank me, Kagamin!”_

He blinks at the image, taking in Aomine’s furrowed brow and narrowed eyes as he glares at the book in front of him in irritation. The scowl on his lips is familiar, as well as the way he has a hand clenched around the hair by his temple, as if he’s racking his small brain for an answer it doesn’t know.

It’s funny, the picture. And cute. Taiga likes it, but it’s a secret he’d take to the grave.

Because the two of them? They’re something. A something that started as Kuroko’s old and new partners, to rivals, to acquaintances, to almost-friends who meet up two or three times a week for one-on-ones. A something where furtive glances and fleeting touches turned into heated gazes and fervent kisses and tight, almost desperate caresses. A something that feels good. Feels right. Something they didn’t put a name to and therefore isn’t official.

So yeah. He likes the picture. Has come to like Aomine too after the second time he’d woken up in the morning to be welcomed with the other’s peaceful sleeping face and thinking how nice it’d be to wake up to that stupid mug every morning.

But they’re just that… a _something._ And maybe that’s what he’s been dreading all day today. That come tomorrow, the something more they could have been if they only had _more time_ would end and they’d just go back to being nothing more than friends. Maybe not even that.

The phone is still ringing, the shrillness echoing inside his barer than usual room. He sits up in bed, breathes deep, and answers it with a sigh. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t wanted to hear Aomine’s voice before… well, before tomorrow.

“Yeah?”

“Last one,” Aomine says over the sound of cars honking distantly in the background, and before Taiga could ask — last what? last one-on-one? last freely-made dinner? last fuck on Taiga’s bed while Taiga clings to him on the edge of orgasm and pretend there are no three-word phrases he should have said a long time ago but haven’t? — the other continues on, tone demanding like it always is, “Meet me on the courts near your place in ten. I’ll bring the ball.”

Then he hangs up, not even waiting to hear whether Taiga would agree or not.

But they both know he will, and so with only a grumble and a curse, he dresses in something warmer than his tee and sweats, grabs his keys, then pockets his phone and wallet, ignoring the bags and boxes packed by his front door on his way out and how, even though he hasn’t really left yet, his apartment already feels so empty.

**

He spots Aomine easily. It’s kinda hard not to. Somehow, Taiga has always had an uncanny awareness of him. Like his eyes and his body gravitate to him, seeking him out, even in the middle of a crowd.

It’s been like that since the first time they met, on this very same court. And when Aomine glances over his shoulder at him just before Taiga reaches the court entrance, Taiga can’t help but wonder if it’s the same for the other man. If Aomine’s eyes, too, can’t look the fuck away.

“First to six?” Taiga asks as he takes off his hoodie and empties the contents of his pants pockets on it.

Aomine’s standing by the free throw line, and the sight of his grin settles the nervous churning in Taiga’s stomach. He dribbles the ball idly, and without looking at the hoop, he raises his hand and flicks his wrist. “That’s one point for me,” he says, smug, a second before the ball swishes into the basket.

“You bastard, I wasn’t ready yet!” he yells, the sound getting drowned out by the pleasant rumble of Aomine’s laughter.

After. They still have time to talk after.

**

“That all you got?” Aomine says, not even ten minutes later.

“Shut up,” Taiga huffs, hand on his hip and the other pulling at the hem of his shirt to wipe at the sweat running down his cheek. “One more time, you cheater!”

Aomine’s eyes drop to his stomach then back up to his face, the movement too quick to be casual. But instead of a leering quip, he just smirks and says, “Gonna play that way in America? They’re going to wipe the floor with your ass.”

And there it is, finally out in the open.

Taiga tenses, hands clenched by his sides, watching as Aomine averts his gaze and looks at Taiga’s shoes, the ball that has rolled off to the side of the court, at the streetlight that’s just starting to flicker on in the darkness of the late afternoon. He’d avoided Taiga’s stare too, after grumbling about him leaving, that night after the Jabberwock match when Taiga’s plan to go back had stopped being a secret.

Well, it wasn't really supposed to be a secret. He just had been so focused with the training and the match to think about anything that will come after that. He sure as hell hadn’t wanted for Aomine to find out that way.

Now there’s barely a day left before he has to leave for America. Mere hours. And they still haven’t talked about it. About them, whatever they are.

He opens his mouth, but Aomine beats him to it.

“Look, I get it. Why you wanna go back,” he says, his eyes still not meeting Taiga’s. “The players there are stronger. Even stronger than those assholes we played the other day,” he adds as he ambles towards the ball and scoops it up.

“Besides, you’ve always dreamt of playing there. So it makes sense. Wasn’t expecting it to be so soon though...” The last part he says in a low murmur, one Taiga thinks he wasn’t meant to hear so he doesn’t comment on it.

He does, however, ask, “How did you know I wanted to go pro there?”

Aomine looks at him, eyebrow raised and ball tucked under his arm. “You told us, stupid. That time we went to eat at Maji with Tetsu, and then Satsuki — ”

“Whacked you in the head so hard your face fell on my burger and squished it,” he says, remembering Aomine’s face dripping with sauce and his own hysterical laughter.

“Yeah, _that_ time,” Aomine hisses and glares at him. He’s embarrassed. How cute.

Taiga grins. “You still haven’t paid me for that burger.”

“Not the point, Bakagami! And stop laughing!”

He does stop, but only because he realizes something. “Wait, I thought you weren’t listening though. That’s why Momoi hit you.”

“I listen to important stuff,” Aomine says, tone serious as he stares at him. He then blinks, glances away, and looks back with a huff and a weird slant to his lips. “Especially to stuff you say when you think I’m sleeping.”

Taiga’s breath catches in his throat and his eyes widen, the memory suddenly vivid in his mind —

Of waking up in the morning after Aomine’s second time sleeping over, two months ago. Of feeling the sunlight searing into his eyes, dried cum flaking on his stomach and thighs, scratches stinging down his back and his sore ass causing him to flinch with every movement. Of waking up and looking at Aomine lying beside him, face slack-jawed with sleep, drool drying on his chin, and soft dark hair a mess on his pillow.

Of waking up and whispering, “I think I love you…” and then bolting out of bed the next millisecond and nearly braining himself on the nightstand.

“Yeah, _that_ time,” Aomine says again, jolting Taiga out of his thoughts. This time, he sounds amused.

“B-but I… you. Why — !” Taiga stammers, not knowing whether to explain or deny or demand why, if Aomine heard it, then why the fuck hadn’t he done or said something, anything?

Aomine shrugs, bringing the ball up and spinning it on his finger. Taiga watches it, entranced. Aomine looks the most entrancing with a ball on his hands. “It got me thinking.”

“Must have hurt,” spills out of his mouth without any input from his brain.

“Not as much as my fist to your face would,” Aomine says, irritation on the crease of his forehead, the gruffness of his voice, and his clenched hand raised in half-serious threat. “And since you’re being a bastard, I won’t tell you what I found out just yet.”

“Tell me.” Taiga doesn’t whine, but it’s a very near thing. His heart feels like it’s beating a hundred beats a minute, and Aomine’s smirk and the thought that ‘holy shit maybe he feels the same way’ isn’t making it calm down at all.

Aomine chuckles as he walks towards him, ball held in the width of his palm. “I said later. It’s also payback for not telling me about America sooner.” He pauses, all traces of teasing dropping from his face. “It’s not like I would have stopped you.”

“I know.” He hasn’t ever thought Aomine would. Basketball is a part of him and Aomine _gets_ it. He's the last person to keep him from playing.

Aomine stops not even a foot from him, and this close, Taiga can lean forward and kiss him like he hasn’t before — soft and slow and lingering. “Doesn’t mean I’ll just let you leave me behind though.”

“I — wha?”

There’s a shit-eating grin on Aomine’s face and _god_ , Taiga really, really wants to wrap his arms around him and feel his laughter against his chest. “You never know,” Aomine says, his voice warm and gleeful, “One year from now, maybe less, you’ll find me knocking on your door in L.E. — ”

“L.A.”

“— _whatever_ , with my bags and stuff and I’ll walk in, say how nice your place is, pin you to the wall and then kiss you senseless. Then you’ll feed me because it’s what a good boyfr-mghh uh...” Aomine stammers around the word, bites his tongue, and proceeds to turn red on the cheeks; Taiga wouldn’t have seen it on his dark skin if they weren’t almost in each other’s personal bubble.

“Is that what we are now?” he asks. His stomach is doing this flipping motion and his own cheeks are starting to hurt from how much he’s smiling. So they’re more than a something after all. And they’ll continue to do so, even after tomorrow, even after he leaves.

Taiga reaches out a trembling hand and grabs tight at Aomine’s shirt.

“Not if you don’t stop grinning like that, you dumbass,” Aomine says, a mock glare in place and his tone just the slightest bit miffed. Still, when Taiga pulls, he moves even closer without complaint.

“Can’t help it. I’m happy,” Taiga says. And damn, does he sound as giddy as he feels?

Aomine makes this weird face, somewhere between pretending to scowl and stopping his mouth from tugging up into a grin of its own. In the end though, he just lets out a huge sigh and gives him a gentle, fond look. “You better be. I’m great.”

He laughs, and something flashes in Aomine’s eyes. “Are you now?”

“Yeah,” Aomine breathes against his lips. “You are too, y’know? Kinda.”

“So generous with your praises,” Taiga says just as softly. He tips his head to the side, wanting to close the last bit of inch between their mouths and kiss away the smirk on Aomine’s face, and he almost does, but at the last moment, a ball is shoved hard against his stomach and his lungs are suddenly empty of air.

“Later,” Aomine says, sounding oddly breathless himself. “Another round. Don’t think I’ll let you leave without beating me at least once.”

Taiga growls, punches Aomine on the gut, and then dribbles past his hunched-over form and towards the hoop. “One point for me!” he shouts as he jumps. He grins, hearing the clang of the ball being dunked on the rim and Aomine’s wheezing laughter behind him.

They stay and play until it's dark and the moon is high up in the sky.

**

Later, they push inside Taiga’s apartment, hands gripping at the other’s clothes and keeping each other close, not noticing the bags and boxes packed by the door and the even barer than usual bedroom.

Chest to chest and lying side by side, Taiga finally gets to kiss the smirk off Aomine’s lips. Finally gets to kiss him softly, slowly, his lips lingering over the other’s, feeling Aomine smile against his mouth.

They fuck on Taiga’s bed; make love. And when they’re on the edge of orgasm, they cling to each other and Aomine whispers in his ear —

“I think I love you too.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Time to rewatch Last Game and die again.  
> o(--(


End file.
